


The Damage You Don't See

by BlueNeutrino



Series: A Hunter's Heart in an Angel's Hands [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cardiophilia, Contemplation, Episode: s04e02 Are You There God? It's Me Dean Winchester, Foundations for a Future Relationship, Heartbeats, Implied Relationships, M/M, badass-angel-but-strangely-caring!Cas, but it's set at a point when Cas has no sense of boundaries or what is socially appropriate, sleeping!Dean, very-minorly-hurt!Dean, which may make this a little creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3688209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueNeutrino/pseuds/BlueNeutrino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel had never intended to come back. Talking with Dean frustrated him, yet he still felt a compelling urge to return and check that the hunter was okay.</p><p>Coda to Dean and Cas' scene at the end of 4x02.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Damage You Don't See

**Author's Note:**

> So, my plan for the one year anniversary of this series was to go waaaaaayyyyy back to practically when Dean and Cas first met and explore how Cas' fascination with Dean's heartbeat started. I'm a little late, but that's what this fic was intended to be.

Castiel hadn’t intended to come back. Talking with Dean was…difficult. He was stubborn, and insolent, and disrespectful, and Castiel wasn’t inclined to try speaking with him beyond the requirements of the mission. Despite all that, the angel felt a strange compulsion to return to the house beside the junkyard to check on the hunter. He wasn’t sure what it was that drew him back there, but after rendezvousing with Uriel back in Heaven and being told to await further orders, the first thing on Castiel’s mind was to head back to Bobby Singer’s again.

Dean was sleeping when he arrived. Castiel was grateful for that; he still had no wish to talk, but merely to check that Dean was okay. The angel ignored the other form sleeping on the couch – presumably Sam Winchester, whom he would encounter in good time – and crossed the room quietly to kneel down next to Dean. The angel’s brow creased slightly as his eyes scanned over Dean’s unconscious body, checking for any sign of external damage. There didn’t seem to be any, thankfully, yet Castiel couldn’t help thinking back to their conversation – confrontation? – earlier.

 _“You were hip to all this?”_ Dean’s first words to him, angry, indignant, and sparking the first prickle of irritation that rose up beneath Castiel’s skin. He’d expected a more…humble response to his praise. “ _Well, thanks a lot for the angelic assistance.”_

And there it was again, that prickling annoyance as unfamiliar to him as this new vessel, provoking an itching desire to retaliate. Castiel had believed it to be because of the man’s insolence. Dean’s blatant lack of respect or gratitude towards the Heavenly Host was offensive, and Castiel had admonished him for it, but Dean’s reaction had done little to satisfy the angel. The cowed look that had entered Dean’s eyes was neither pleasing nor displeasing to him. It remained to be seen whether Dean would learn from it, although Castiel found it unlikely, but there was no reason why the impertinence of one man should bother an Angel of the Lord so much.

So why did Castiel still feel so unsettled?

He thought back to the rest of the conversation, and the next in the list of Dean’s grievances that he’d aired. “ _You know, I almost got my heart ripped out of my chest._ ” Now, _that._ Yes, that had bothered Castiel, moreso than he'd let on, and maybe it explained everything that the angel was feeling right now.

Resurrecting Dean had been no menial task. Even after finally battling his way out of Hell with Dean’s soul in his arms, the process of reviving his body had been lengthy and difficult. Now, as Castiel knelt beside Dean, he allowed his gaze to linger on the hunter’s face for several moments, taking in the slight bump in the otherwise perfect line of his nose; the scattered freckles that adorned his cheeks; the Cupid’s bow-shape of his lips… Castiel had taken so much care in restoring each of those tiny details, meticulously knitting this body back together, before finally breathing life back into Dean’s heart and asking it to beat.

And it had, by his command.

To be reminded just how fragile Dean’s state of existence was, how that same heart could so easily be stilled…it perturbed Castiel. Maybe that was the inner turmoil he was feeling, knowing how easily his efforts to resurrect Dean could be rendered futile. Castiel already knew any threats he made of Hell were hollow. If the angel was honest with himself, he knew they were a cruel and cheap way of demanding respect, although Dean was just so stubborn little else seemed to get through to him. But Castiel had given up too much, come to know this soul far too well, to ever contemplate following through.

Not quite tentatively, but less confidently than Castiel had expected of himself, the angel reached out to place his palm flat on Dean’s chest. He could feel the steady beat of the hunter’s heart beneath it, minutely faster than perhaps it should have been, and weaker. Castiel had sensed it earlier, standing so close to Dean in the unearthly quiet of pre-dawn and with Dean intimidated enough that his heart had begun to beat harder, and the faint sound of it had concerned the angel then.

 _Dean’s heart had almost been ripped out._ That’s what was bothering Castiel so much. Seeking reassurance, the angel allowed some of his grace to flow through his fingertips into Dean’s chest, seeking out the damage. There wasn’t much, but the evidence of the earlier squeezing was evident in the bruises Castiel could sense marring the muscle. Myocardial contusion. It wasn’t severe, and most likely would heal on its own, but Castiel didn’t feel inclined to just leave it be, even if Dean’s earlier attitude said he deserved it. With a thought, the damage was repaired. The angel remained with his hand lingering on Dean’s chest for a few more heartbeats, ensuring the rhythm had returned to normal before deciding it was safe to pull his hand away.

But even then, he didn’t.

How many heartbeats had passed since he’d brought Dean back to life, Castiel wondered? He didn’t know, but he wished he’d counted. Dean’s heart had leapt back to life at his command, and now it continued to beat for him without fail. That was one sense, at least, in which Dean had been obedient.

It took several more minutes before Castiel finally persuaded himself to pull his hand away, knowing he should return to Heaven to await more news. His duty to Heaven took priority over whatever duty or responsibility he felt to continue to watch over Dean, but as Castiel beat his wings to leave, he found that his own inner state was far less troubled than before.

-oOo-


End file.
